


Praying for a Sign

by CadForTea



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Asexual Caduceus Clay, Gen, M/M, aroace Caduceus compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadForTea/pseuds/CadForTea
Summary: Eadwulf had been praying for a sign from the Matron to show that he was following the path She had set out for him. A descendant of one of his Matron's champions might be the answer.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Eodwulf, Caduceus Clay/Eodwulf
Comments: 11
Kudos: 128





	Praying for a Sign

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 110 happened and Eadwulf suddenly became very interesting and I am here for it. Went with Eadwulf as the spelling as it has become the new established version.

Eadwulf returned to his quarters shaken. He had not seen Bren since the day he’d killed a guard and escaped from the Sanatorium, and his old friend had seemed to be doing fine outside of Ikithon’s purview. Bren had looked stone faced, his face haunted by what he had gone through in the Sanatorium, yet he had kept himself together. He had looked good, even.

When Bren had broken down at the realization of what the three of them had done in the name of the Empire, Eadwulf had tried to find a meaning in all the pain that life caused. Astrid had turned cold, finding meaning in her hunger for more power. Eadwulf had turned to the Matron, desperate to find a reason to the suffering that happened in the world. Without Her, he would have been locked up in the room next to Bren at the Sanatorium. Death and pain had become an inseparable part of his identity, and the Matron resided over the strings of fate as well. He found meaning in it, yet now Bren had proven that there was a different path outside of Ikithon’s purview.

Ikithon thought of his religious practice as quaint, saying “We forge our own paths, and the gods are too far away to care for us.”

Eadwulf disagreed. He did not have the strength to oppose Ikithon outright, but his worship of the Raven Queen was his own form of rebellion. Eadwulf had always stood in the shadow of Astrid and Bren, but as he knelt in front of the altar set up in a windowless room that few knew of in his home, he was the sole focus in the room. The blood red candles illuminated him, covering everything else in dark shadows as he clutched the raven feather pendant in his hands. He was completely bare in front of Her, his scars and tattoos on display now instead of hidden away like they had been in the Sanatorium.

Eadwulf’s knuckles turned white as he mumbled prayers to the Matron. _I am lost, send me your guidance, Matron of Ravens. Send me a sign to tell me where to go. Direct me on the path you have created for me. Why did you bring Bren back to my life?_

The candle lights flickered, moved by an invisible wind in the still room. Eadwulf knew the Matron could hear his pleas, but she had not deemed him worthy of direct communication. That did not stop his devotion to Her. He trusted Her to guide his path forwards. Eadwulf had been content to do the work asked of him, but seeing Bren flourish on a different path had made him stumble.

_Send me a sign and help me understand._

There was a flicker again, and Eadwulf could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand. She was hearing him, and he tried to understand what She wanted.

_Let me redeem myself in the eyes of Fate. I will cast everything aside when the time comes. Let me be your instrument in this world._

Eadwulf meant what he had promised. He had dedicated his time to the Matron, spending most of his time at the Temple unless summoned by Ikithon or working for ‘the benefit of the Empire’. As the peace talks came to fruition, his work had changed and he worked alongside other _Volstrucker_ in researching what they had gained from studying the beacons. He conducted more personal research on the side, going through the archives at the temple. There was something that nagged his memory about the old champions of the Raven Queen.

When the dinner summon came, Eadwulf buttoned his formal clothes and hid his feather pendant under the velvet tunic. He had been hesitant to attend at first, but there was something spurring him on that was not just curiosity born from having spoken with Astrid about Bren’s late night visit to her before the peace talks.

Master Ikithon gave them a run-down of the guest list when Astrid and him arrived, telling them of their known soft spots as well as allegiances.

The blue tiefling and the former goblin had been memorable to him from before. Ikithon had offered no explanation as to how the goblin had been turned into a halfling, but Eadwulf knew better than to ask.

The expositor of the Cobalt Soul and the Xhorhasian woman were dangerous, and Eadwulf did not need a separate warning to know to be on guard. There was bad blood on all sides and Eadwulf expected a knife in his back from any of them.

The last of the group were worshippers of the outlawed goddess Melora; The half-orc, Stone, and the odd bovine-like creature, Clay, who Ikithon identified as a firbolg. Clay looked nothing like the reclusive race he had read about. None of his books had mentioned pink hair or floppy ears.

But it was the names that piqued Eadwulf’s interest even more than the existence of the firbolg. The names Ikithon identified them by, Stone and Clay, were the names of two families formerly associated with the Matron. It might have been a coincidence, but Eadwulf was intrigued even though he put on a disinterested mask as the arrival of guests was announced.

The unusual firbolg was bold and unashamed, which was to be expected of someone following a goddess of such a chaotic nature. He did not shy away from confrontation, causing chaos at the dinner table in a mischievous way Eadwulf had not seen since his early days in the Academy. The unconventional seating did offer Eodwulf an unobstructed place to observe the chaos the firbolg caused. The firbolg caught Eadwulf’s attention time and time again, even as he tried to concentrate on following along the conversation where neither Ikithon nor Bren said what they actually meant and kept on speaking half-truths.

 _Is he Your sign?_ Eadwulf asked silently when Clay took a stand against Ikithon, challenging his authority and wisdom. Clay’s words were like a fresh breeze sweeping through and ruffling Eadwulf’s hair. The firbolg was fearless and honest, and refused to cower in front of a powerful mage. Even if the words had been directed towards Ikithon, Eadwulf felt like they had hit him as well. Mourning his family had given him a meaning in his life, a reason to be as he served the Matron. He carried his pain and sorrow with him, and would do so until the day he joined them, but he would not weep for Ikithon.

Clay spoke with the unwavering confidence of someone who knew his place in the world, so unlike how Eadwulf felt on the inside as he fumbled to find the path that the Matron had set for him. There was a Zemnian saying, ‘only the tough will make it in the garden’, and the smell of nature that clung to Clay even when he was dressed in formal wear made it all the more fitting. Clay also made sure that Eadwulf and Astrid knew there was a standing invitation for them to join the Mighty Nein for drinks even as they declined to do so this night.

Eadwulf and Astrid escorted Bren and his friends out from the tower, and Eadwulf walked in silence as he let the more extroverted of the party talk. It was his usual role, standing in the shadow of more powerful people. Astrid had been grabbed by the blue tiefling, and Eadwulf offered a sympathetic flask to Bren who accepted it and took a swig.

“That’s a handy trick.” The Xhorhasian woman said and interrupted his musings.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of them, don’t worry.” Eadwulf said, inflicting a lighter tone in an attempt to alleviate the mood after Clay’s scathing words that had left a tense atmosphere in the group. Eadwulf and Astrid, as well as Bren by now, knew that Ikithon would not let such insolence go unpunished in the long run but living in denial seemed to be a good idea right now.

“I’d love to see more,” she continued, and Eadwulf looked at her. He had tried to read her earlier, but she was just as confusing as the others. From anyone else, he would have thought of the words as some sort of flirtation, but he was unsure when it came from her deadpan face.

“Would you?” Eadwulf replied, taking a leaf from Clay’s book and actually meaning what he said. He vanished the flask, placing it back in the pocket dimension, and let the conversation go on without him.

Eadwulf considered letting the group go without addressing the elephant in the room, but he was too tempted to let go. As he pushed the gate open, he turned toward Clay and spoke directly to the colorful firbolg. He continued on the path of honesty. “That was certainly one of the more interesting dinners I’ve been to. I like you.”

The firbolg looked pleased with himself, as if he had not expected the compliment. “Thank you, I like you, too. Don’t let that stuff get to your head. He’s -- that guy’s a little-- oof.”

“Yeah,” Eadwulf smiled bitterly. If only someone had said those words to him fifteen years earlier when Ikithon had made his interest in the three of them known. His life might have looked quite different. “I would be careful not to say things to people like him.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t if I had to live here, no. Oof.” The firbolg made what Eadwulf assumed was an expression of being overwhelmed. It was distracting how human-like the firbolg was at times, even if his facial structure was similar to a bovine. How this race was related to giants was a mystery to him, as the only similar feature was the grey tone of his skin and his height. It was quite a novelty to not be the tallest man, even if the firbolg was on the leaner side and Eadwulf felt confident that he could win him in a contest of strength.

“Anyway...” Eadwulf considered bringing up his questions about Clay’s heritage but dismissed it when he realised it might be a conversation best held in private away from Ikithon’s watchful eye. He needed to go back to his home, to the room without windows where the firbolg and his perceptiveness would not see him either. It was uncanny how well Clay could read those around him even as he ignored social cues. Not being able to predict what Clay might do worried him. “Anyway. Astrid?”

“Good spending time,” Bren interrupted Eadwulf’s exit.

Eadwulf knew he couldn’t leave without a goodbye, and went over to his oldest friend and put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths again. She keeps bringing us together.”

Eadwulf left before someone else could stop him. He did not run, but he walked rather briskly, toward his rooms and the peace he could find in them. It was too late to go to the temple of the Raven Queen without raising suspicion.

 _Is he Your sign?_ Eadwulf asked again in the privacy of his chambers. He had promised to follow Her whenever She called him now. The colorful firbolg who dared to stand up against Ikithon, the child of a family that had served the Matron before being given away to serve Melora, seemed to be just the type of thing that could be a clear sign. If She told him to follow, he would.

The two candles in front of the white mask on the altar flickered. Eadwulf felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, encouraging him.

_Yes_


End file.
